Cold
by LovelyLadyAllie
Summary: #4 in my One-Shot series. Following the events of Enchanted Christmas, Belle is feeling a little under the weather. Read Something There, One Step Forward, and Home first for chronological order.


**I don't own Beauty and the Beast just the story idea.**

**This one-shot is more of a bridge to where I want to go with these but I hope you enjoy it just the same. **

**As always, please leave a review! **

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**Cold**

Christmas was behind them and a new blizzard was pelting the castle with ice and snow. Belle had never seen so much snow in her entire life. As the temperature outside continued to drop, it was proving more and more challenging to keep the massive castle comfortable, although it seemed the chill didn't affect anyone but her. The servants were made of solid objects, not flesh and blood, and the Beast with his thick fur coat, which seemed to have thickened further with the arrival of the snow, continued to dress as he always had, with the exception of the torn pants. He now maintained a much more debonair appearance, choosing well fitted cotton shirts, which Belle noted accentuated his broad shoulders, and neat breeches that left his calves exposed. Now and then she'd find him with a waistcoat on, and marveled at how human he appeared on those days.

She was beginning to see past the exterior and when she looked at his face she no longer noticed the fangs protruding out of the corners of his mouth, or the horns atop his head. No, she only saw the genuine care and curiosity in his azure blue eyes, the thick lower lip that curled up whenever he looked at her, and she couldn't remember the last time he'd walked on all fours. Day by day he became more and more human, and her mind kept drifting to that magical rose in his room and questions about how it fit into the mystery of his curse.

This morning when she woke, her body was already shivering. The fire in her room was out, and she could see her breath puff out in a cloud of chilled air. Her thick cotton nightgown did little to keep the cold away, and she sneezed several times, wiping the moisture from under her nose. Pulling the blanket from her bed around her shoulders, she didn't want to lose what little warmth it provided in order to get dressed properly. Finding some warm slippers to cover her feet, she made her way down to the smallest dining room where she knew he would be waiting for her. Had Madame de la Grande Bouche been awake she would have been horrified that Belle wasn't dressed properly to dine with the Master, but she was too cold and uncomfortable to care.

Beast sat at the head of the table, with a book in one hand, and using what was typically a spoon for cooking, but with his large paws fit rather well, eating a steaming bowl of porridge. He glanced up as she entered the room and his face took on a concerned grimace.

"Are you alright Belle? You don't look well." He stood, walking up to her, taking in her unkempt hair, the blanket wrapped around her slender shoulders and how red her nose looked. As if right on cue she sneezed again and another shiver ran down her spine. Instinct pushed him to pull her into his arms so he could warm her, and he was shocked when she rest her head against him and her forehead was so hot he could feel the heat though his shirt. "I'm getting you back to bed. Mrs. Potts can bring up your breakfast."

"No, I'll be alright. I'm just a little chilled. The fire went out at some point in the night and my room got really cold." Her voice faltered, betraying the sound of congestion, as she used the blanket to wipe a drip from her nose.

"You're ill. Now I'm taking you back to bed. Your choice is to walk or I can carry you." He looked down on her with a stony expression that she knew was pointless to argue with. The concern in his eyes was evident, and she couldn't deny that she felt exhausted from the walk between her chambers to the dining room. Still leaning against him, she didn't want to lose the heat his great body was providing, but she also felt self-conscious conceding to him carrying her.

When she failed to move away from his embrace, he took it as consent, and in one swift movement scooped her up bridal style. Without a moment's pause she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest.

"Thank you." She said shyly, and he didn't understand how she could feel timid with him, almost as if she… No. He shook the thought from his head as he made wide strides toward the grand staircase in the main entry hall.

He didn't take her back to her room, but to one in the West Wing, not far from his own, that had a blazing fire going and was more central to the castle, providing less of a draft. Belle didn't question the change of location, and noted that the room was also smaller than hers, which allowed it to stay warmer. Gently he laid her in the bed and she felt the loss of his body heat.

"I'll be right back. I just need to tell Mrs. Potts where to bring the porridge and tea. Is there a particular book you'd like me to bring you?"

"What were you reading?"

"The Iliad. I wasn't very far into it. Zeus had just sent the dream to Agamemnon to attack Troy."

"That sounds perfect." She yawned, burring herself under the covers.

"Okay. I'll be just a few minutes." He smiled over at her, but internally he was very worried. As he'd held her he could feel how hot her entire body was and knew that it was more than just a little cold. After closing the door, he raced downstairs and into the kitchen where Chef Bouche and Mrs. Potts were chatting. Both looked up at him with concern at his sudden appearance, for he rarely came to the kitchen unprompted.

"Belle's sick. Where can I find the castle physician?" His tone betrayed just how urgent the situation was, and Mrs. Potts immediately sprang into action.

"Oh, the poor dear. I'll bring her some hot porridge, and tea. Monsieur Toubib is usually in the conservatory tending the herb garden. Not that there's been need for his medical expertise in these past ten years, or a use for the medicinal herbs he grows. But he tends them just the same in preparation for the day…" She trailed off when she turned around a saw he was already out the door.

"He's really starting to care for the girl isn't he?" Bouche asked as he reignited the flame beneath the pot to warm Belle's breakfast.

"I do believe he is. I've never seen him so distraught."

An hour later Belle was tucked into the large bed, belly full and medicinal tea half gone sitting on the nightstand. Beast had brought in a large armchair that he now sat in, next to the bed, reading aloud from his book. Lost in a battle sequence, he didn't even notice that Belle had fallen asleep until a soft snoring drifted over to him. Placing the book in his lap he sat there just watching her as she inhaled and exhaled, sometimes with difficulty. A cough disrupted her slumber and she struggled to catch her breath when the fit finally ended. As she gasped for breath, Beast picked up her tea cup that was still steaming, and held it under her mouth, forcing her to breathe in the vapors. It calmed her burning lungs and through watery eyes she looked at him with gratitude.

"Monsieur Toubib believes you have grippe. With lots of rest, and his teas, you should be feeling better in a few days, possibly a week."

"I've never felt this miserable." A tear escaped her eye as she turned away from him to hide her discomfort. He saw it anyway and reached out a paw to stroke soothing circles across her back. Her body eased beneath his hand, as if it were a healing tonic. Muscles that ached and tightened, relaxed knowing she wasn't alone. A shiver ran through her, and he pulled his chair closer, continuing to warm her with the gentle movements on her back, as his other hand started stroking through her hair, his claws very lightly scratching her scalp.

Beast didn't know where the idea had come from or what driving force within gave him the courage to touch her in such a way, but he was delighted that it seemed to be giving her comfort. He'd lost the shock of her acceptance of his touch weeks ago when she started seeking him out and initiating contact. Clearly she wasn't afraid of him in the least, and while he didn't understand how she could see him as anything but a monster, he took pleasure in her allowance of his touch.

Another fit of coughing wracked her body and he paused for a moment, unsure of how to help her, but desperately wanting to. The feeling disturbed him. Never before had he been so invested in the welfare of another. There was no doubt he would give anything to take away the pain and discomfort she was feeling now. When she started shivering again, he eased himself into the bed next to her, and she curled into his side, placing an arm around his waist while resting her head on his chest. Nuzzling his head against hers, he thought he saw a smile cross her face before it relaxed and her eyes drifted shut.

It didn't take much time for her to fall back asleep and he lay there, holding her in his arms, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. No thought to his own comfort, or the boredom that quickly descended, as the book he'd been reading was too far for him to reach without disturbing her, he remained in place, lending her his warmth and reassuring presence.

Hours passed by and he stayed, despite his arm going numb, and his mind drifting in and out of disturbing thoughts. It was like waking nightmares the way his imagination tortured him. It flitted from dreams of being made human again, to Belle rejecting him and deserting him, left to rot in this decaying palace for eternity. He knew he loved her. Despite his horrendous treatment of her over Christmas, she had shown him forgiveness and kindness. And the days following his changed attitude had been some of the best they'd spent together.

In her sleep Belle would murmur now and then. Most times she would call out for Papa, but this last time she'd called for him and then snuggled closer into his side. Perhaps he could still hope to earn a deeper affection from her. She often called them friends, and once even told him that he was the best friend she'd ever had. He found that sentiment hard to believe, but appreciated it none the less. Closing his eyes he held her close and vowed that no matter what fate had in store, he would be the best version of himself that he could be.

After her illness things seemed to change with Beast. He was much more cautious around her, and while he was less apprehensive to touch her, he did so in a way one would a fragile piece of china. However, she was completely recovered, no trace of fever or cough and she could breathe with ease. She didn't understand why he was treating her like a child.

"Can I ask you something?" She stared at him from across the parlor where they had set up a reading nook, as it was much easier to keep warm than the enormous library. Every morning after breakfast they would walk around the library gathering a stack of books to enjoy that day. If they read separately the stack could get to be a dozen books high. Today was one of those days.

"Humm?" He glanced up from his novel to see here pensive stare.

"What are you afraid of?" She asked directly, her hazel eyes piercing and steady.

"What do you mean?" Gulping from the implication of the question, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat across from her.

"Well, you seem to be immune to illness, except for the brief fever you had when the wolf bite got infected, and even that only lasted a few days. Your sheer size makes you a formidable foe against any intruders or people who might seek to harm you. There's no risk of starvation with a full staff providing your meals, and comforts beyond those I've ever known. So what do you fear?"

Spelled out like that it seemed there really shouldn't be anything for him to be afraid of. Yet he did have many fears. Fear of never breaking the curse, disappointing his staff who never deserved to share in his punishment. Fear of harm, in anyway, befalling Belle. Fear of the love and reliance he had grown to have of her. Absolute terror she would laugh or ridicule him for his feelings when he finally drew up the courage to disclose them to her. Then there were his nightmares. Tormenting dreams where he completely lost every shred of humanity and reverted to a primal, vicious beast that would destroy anyone and everything in its wake, including Belle. But he couldn't tell her any of that, as much as he might want to.

So instead he just said, "Being alone." The sadness of his statement filled the deep pools of blue that returned her gaze.

Two little words, yet they held a novels worth of meaning and Belle felt it to her core. Implied in that brief remark was that losing her was what he feared most. While she'd been sick she had, in a way, left him. When the fever was at its peak she'd drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes for entire days. His new caution around her was likely a result of that fragile state she'd been in, and she wondered what, if anything could help him move past it.

"What are yours?" He asked, setting his book aside, deciding the conversation was a better use of his time.

"I suppose it depends. Before coming here, my greatest fear was never leaving that tiny village, and being the strange, odd girl no one understood or cared for, for the rest of my life. That gave way to a fear of being married to a man that only saw me as a trophy to add to his shelf, one who would never accept me for who I am. Now…" She thought long and hard about what to say next and Beast quietly listened and waited for her to continue.

"Now I think I fear losing the friends I have here. I know I've mentioned how the people in my village found a woman who read to be the strangest thing. But it wasn't just that village. Every place I've ever lived, I never fit in. I'd hear the whispers 'There goes that pretty girl, too bad she's so odd.' or 'What a beauty, but a funny girl.' And when you hear things like that often enough, you begin to believe them. They became my internal voice and while I try my best to ignore it and not let it affect me, it does." Her face became drawn and sadness entered her eyes. It baffled him that anyone could think she was strange.

"No one ever spoke more than a few words of greeting or polite conversation with me. So when I told you that you're the closest friend I've ever had, I wasn't exaggerating or just being kind. You truly are my best friend and I'm so grateful for you. I'd given up hope of ever finding anyone who would accept me for just being me. And since I don't know how to be anyone but me, I assumed that once Papa died, I'd be alone, forever. So I guess that makes us the same, doesn't it? We both fear being all alone."

A long silence followed her confession and Beast truly didn't know how to respond. He felt closer to her in that moment than he ever had, and he wanted to reciprocate by telling her everything. But how would she feel about him if she knew the truth? That he was just as unkind, judgmental and callous as the people in her village, and because of that empty heart he was doomed to live his life in solitude, as a beast. She would pity him for sure, he'd already seen that emotion in her eyes enough times to know that would be her initial reaction. After that he wasn't sure if she would be disgusted with him or indifferent, finally realizing he didn't deserve her friendship or kindness. The idea that she would show him forgiveness and acceptance that he wasn't that man anymore was a fleeting thought.

Instead of making a similar confession, he chose to focus on her. "Nothing could ever make me see you as anything other than perfection. You're intelligent and kind, and the strongest woman I've ever met. Those villagers don't know what they're missing. Just like I didn't know what a wondrous world lay beyond the covers of these books, until you opened them to me and now I've been on more adventures than I can count. Getting to know you is like reading the best book ever written. Every day I turn the page and it's a new story, and new adventure." He smiled at her and she could see the sincerity in his eyes. For a moment her face lit at his generous words, before they turned downward and her brow furrowed a bit.

"And yet you won't trust me with your story. I feel like I can tell you anything. But there's so much I don't know about you. I don't even know your actual name." She sighed and the comfort he'd been feeling vanished.

"My burdens, my past mistakes, they're not important. Not anymore. Talking about them is… hard."

"And telling you about feeling like an outcast, like some sort of freak my whole life wasn't hard for me? You could have agreed with them. You could have looked at me with scorn and told me I _was_ odd and strange and that I was foolish to think anyone would want to be friends with a crazy girl like me." He snorted at her, making it clear that the only crazy thing was thinking he'd ever think any of the things she'd just said.

"Just as you never would have told me any of that, I'd never hurt you either. You could tell my anything about your past, and I'd know that you're kind, gentle, brave, and sweet. But if you still don't trust me I understand. Your secrets are yours to keep. I can only hope one day you'll feel differently." And with that she grabbed her book and walked out, leaving him to ponder everything she'd said.

Maybe he should tell her. Not everything, he couldn't put that kind of pressure on her. If she was going to fall in love with him, it had to be real and genuine, not because she wanted to help break his curse. He didn't know if it would even work if she knew. But perhaps he could tell her enough to break down the wall he felt separated them. Where would he start? He wanted to go after her now and tell her, but his feet wouldn't obey.


End file.
